Day +100

It's been about 10 months since Mama started feeling bad, just not herself.  Since she started fighting an infection that ultimately led to the leukemia diagnosis.

And it's been two short, extremely long weeks since the unthinkable.  Two weeks since I last saw my sweet Mama's face on this earth.  Two weeks since she took her last breath here.  And two weeks since the world simply changed.

Today is Day +100.  Our goal day.  The day Freddie was looking forward to so he could have a sleepover in Nana's bed and a jam session spanning at least two days with Papa.

Today was supposed to be the day that we would hopefully be emerging from the most critical time since the transplant.  The day we could all start to breathe again.  The day that we would feel okay with the kids being around Mama again without paralyzing fear that she may catch something from them that could be more than her body could handle.

Today was the day.  And yet here we are.  It's nothing like any of us could have expected.

There are a million emotions that surround a time like this.  Add to that someone who thinks too much, looks to deeply and feels things differently and it becomes infinitely more complex.

The word heavy has been used time and time again to define or describe life right now for our family, yet when I look back I realize I have always tended to live life a little on the heavy side.

To some of you, that makes no sense.  To those who know me pretty well, you understand completely.

I used to see that as a weakness, a weight I carried around and something that made me unlikeable or, at the very least, not much fun to be around.  And to some degree that is very true.  Watching my sweet little ones grow and change, I realize that God doesn't give everything to us at once.  We are not born knowing it all, being able to handle it all or even having it all.  We get it as we can handle it, or as God determines the time is right, whether we think we can handle it or not.

With hindsight being 20/20 as they say, I can now see part of the reason for the path God has laid before me.

When Fred and I had been married less than a year doctors found a benign tumor in his jaw.  Major surgery, intense recovery, bumps along the way, reconstruction and an intensity that I have never experienced followed.

When I was pregnant with Freddie I had minor hiccups throughout the entire 9 months and then he decided to make his entrance into this world 4 1/2 weeks early at just under 5 lbs.  Not bad or scary, but definitely unexpected.  And the immense joy that came along with this little angel was unexpected as well.

And then there's sweet Logan.  I might run out of adjectives trying to describe the feelings associated with this precious little soul.  He might be the best example of joy and pain, strength and weakness, despair and hope all living beautifully and intricately together.

As the saying goes, with age comes wisdom.  I am beginning to view the heavy, incredibly deep and sometimes intense way that I see the world more as a gift from God than a weakness.  A gift that He has gently developed over time.

Or maybe the gift is in the weakness that He can use to help others, because I am growing to understand that our weaknesses can speak volumes to those who may never be able to relate to our strengths.

I am learning, albeit slower than I like, to balance the weight with laughter and lightheartedness.  To live my days, sometimes hours, with both joy and pain all the while not letting either completely take over.  While God is ultimately the source of this balance, it is the precious people that he has so lovingly placed along the path that are the reason balance can even occur.  And by balance, I don't mean balance.  There is really no true balance, but there is a more even stroll through life as I learn to find joy in pain and to find strength in weakness.  To those who have never considered faith, I realize this sounds ridiculous.  But somehow, someway...it exists.  Polar opposites coexisting, even flourishing.  Faith is the only way I can explain it.

The further we move from Mama being everything she never wanted to be...sick, bedridden, isolated, confined...the closer I come back to the beauty that was her.  Inside and out, throughout her life.

She was not perfect.  That was one of the beautiful things about her.  She never pretended to be perfect and she told me that over the years.  But she was faithful and she was diligent and she was patient and she was loving.  She was the full meaning of each one of those.

There was so much I wanted to say at her service.  So much I wanted to share and make sure everyone knew.  As we talked with so many wonderful friends and family both Saturday night and Sunday afternoon, it became increasingly clear that there were common themes about Mama and then there were individual, special and specific aspects to almost every relationship she had with others.

I have heard the quote more than once, but when I heard it this week it really hit home.  In talking about some advice his mother gave him when he would see tragedies in the news, Fred Rogers (Mister Rogers Neighborhood) was quoted as saying that his mother would tell him, "Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping."

That was my Mama.  She was a helper.  Always.  Through and through.  But never in the spotlight..that wasn't her style.  She showed up in places where others had bailed.  She stuck around when things got worse, not better.  She weathered the storm with those who needed her, sometimes protecting them before herself.  She was there when the need arose regardless of whether it fit into her plans or not.  And when it was time for the celebration, the rejoicing over the tiny triumphs, she avoided that spotlight as well.  Avoided the spotlight...but never the celebration.  She was the behind-the-scenes party planner of someone she loved finding their own giant hope again.

A helper.  Every time, all the time.  There are countless lives that she has had a dramatic effect on, but you would never know it.  She didn't go around talking about it, she was just there when she was needed.  It was a gift that she didn't ignore. And it wasn't always the easiest gift to share, but she did it time and time again.  And the world is a better place for it.

She also had the gift of hospitality.  The true and incredible gift of hospitality.  I used to think hospitality and entertaining were one in the same.  I could not have been more wrong.

Entertaining is more about showing off.  Hospitality is about showing up for others.

Entertaining is about how good you look to others.  Hospitality is about how good you can make others feel about themselves.

Entertaining is not a bad thing, but if given the choice - hospitality will win every time.  For my Mama, it could have looked like entertaining because she was an incredible cook, had an eye for design and seemed to pull it off seamlessly.  But it always, always felt like hospitality.  The feeling of belonging in her home.  The feeling of her wanting you to be there.  The feeling of everything being right with the world as you enjoyed a hearty breakfast, seasoned themed chocolates in candy dishes around the house, cozy beds with warm handmade quilts in case you were chilly and dinners that required second and sometimes third servings.  Warm, baked goods often filled the house with an aroma that can only make you feel like you're home.  Whoever you may be in whatever stage of life you may have met her, in her house and at her table...you felt like you were home.

A consummate helper with the gift of hospitality.

No she wasn't perfect, but God matched her perfectly throughout her life with the needs of others.  Through her last days, she was still helping.  You could only understand the impact she had on the hospital staff that cared for her if you had been there.  While she wasn't speaking or even opening her eyes, her gifts still filled that room and those halls.  You could see it through every nurse, doctor or employee that came into her room.

My hope and prayer is that she knew what a difference she made in this world.  My hope and prayer is that any pain or suffering she ever felt in her life was for a greater purpose that had a ripple effect that will last long beyond any of our lives.  She certainly deserved that and so much more.

I wanted to speak at her service.  I wanted so badly to tell every one of you there what I was feeling, but I would never have been able to craft or offer anything spoken that would have worked at the time.  It takes reflection and time for me to process everything.  Which also means that this is likely just the first installment.  I thought I was done with this blog, but I guess it's just not time to quit.

I guess there are too many tiny triumphs and too much giant hope left to experience to quit now.  💜